The good news is, there are foxes in my
neighborhood.
The bad news? There are foxes in my
neighborhood.
Bad news for my cats, anyway, because I
allow them to cruise outside for a few daylight hours on warm
weekend days. Recently, like an overanxious mother, I panicked when
my favorite lap cat, Sonar, failed to show up within minutes of my
calling her. I envisioned her dragged off half-alive to a den full
of fox kits. When she showed up a half-hour later, her gray head
decorated with dried vegetation from her hiding place, I scolded
her. “Where WERE you?” I demanded. She looked at me as if I had
lost my mind.
So, I have a new ritual: Before I let my
cats out for a few hours, I go to my backyard, get down on my hands
and knees, and search under my tiny deck for signs of fox. I have
always believed in respecting wildlife as well as appreciating it.
I just didn’t expect to have to respect it to this extent in
my urban backyard.
But last January, I walked into my
bedroom one morning, and through my window saw something running
around in circles. A dog? No, a red fox! Cavorting, jumping,
running in the snow. And not just any snow, but the snow in my
backyard. I live in the old-town section of a small Colorado city.
I’m within a block of the library and city hall, two blocks
from police headquarters. I’ve lived here since 1997, and
have never seen a fox in the area until that day. Thrilled, I ran
into another room with a better view of my backyard. I was
astounded to see a second fox calmly sitting off to the side,
watching the antics of the first one. Then the two ran off toward
the alley. I was so excited I called a friend’s voice mail
and left a message about the new kids in town.
A few
weeks later, I spoke with some folks at the Colorado Division of
Wildlife about foxes and cats. I heard a story about a man rescuing
a cat that was being attacked by a fox. But didn’t foxes
normally eat small things like mice, I asked? And wouldn’t
they mostly be active at dawn and dusk? Not necessarily, I was
told. And foxes sometimes maim a cat and take it back to the kits,
so the youngsters can learn how to kill prey. In fact, not long ago
the Denver news media ran stories on many mutilated pet cats. Area
residents fretted over a budding serial murderer. Eventually it was
determined that all the cats were killed by coyotes — or
foxes.
What I’m experiencing is just a small
reflection of a much larger picture — how people and wildlife
are beginning to cross paths more and more. In his book,
The Beast in the Garden, David Baron documents
human interactions with mountain lions in the nearby city of
Boulder. He traces the history of how mountain lions — once
nearly wiped out from the area — have apparently made a
resurgence. He cites evidence that lion behavior may have changed
now that lions come in regular contact with humans who do not shoot
at them. In other words, they may be starting to see people as
prey. And he discusses how people need to change their behavior by
scaring and possibly relocating lions that become too bold. He
relates one tale of a Boulder woman who sees a lion in her
backyard. The next day, after debating whether she should, she lets
her cat back outside. The cat disappears.
Now, I had to
decide whether I would change my behavior. I never leave my cats
out at night. But should I stop letting them out altogether?
I settled on the compromise of looking silly for the
neighbors while I scanned under my deck. I know this is no
guarantee that my cats will be safe. I also know that if they
should become fox food, it will be my fault, not the fox’s.
Recently, I began to wonder if I could drop my
fox-checking routine. I hadn’t seen any foxes since that
first time. But recently, at about 1 a.m., I heard high-pitched
squeals outside. A neighbor and I converged to investigate.
“It’s raccoons,” I said. “It’s foxes,” he replied, and
he was right. Two foxes, which gave us the eye and then ran off
down the dark street.
The foxes are here to stay. Welcome
to the neighborhood.
Patricia Walsh is a
contributor to Writers on the Range, a High Country News service
(hcn.org). She lives on Colorado’s Front
Range.
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